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Authors: Tim Michaels
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Sultan Abdullah Alhazred, has located the original scepter of Torrimpietra.”
“The scepter? It exists for real?” Silva was certainly surprised.
“Ja, it is real. And the Sultan wants to make a present of it for the Prince, who he considers a little cousin. I will send it to you today. It is to stay wrapped in the package until the morning of the inauguration. Will it fit in the safe?” Muller asked.
“If it is the same size as the replica, there is room,” said Silva.
“Gutt, gutt. I send it in such a way that it seems fake. Gold-plated, but fake. Regular delivery,” Muller noted.
“I understand,” da Silva replied.
“On the day of the inauguration, you are to open the package in early morning. The scepter must be placed on the right-hand arm of the throne so that it will be easy for the Prince to grip. You must do that yourself, and nobody must touch the scepter once you have put it on the throne,” Muller said.
“Is special instructions of the Sultan,” Muller continued, after a beat.
There was another pause, and then Muller went on, “You must understand, the scepter, it is priceless. It is hollow, and inside is mechanical device said to be built by Archimedes himself.”
Archimedes was a Syracusan genius who died around 210 B.C. at the hands of Roman invaders. He was a brilliant mathematician, scientist and builder. Sadly, today he is best remembered for running naked through the streets of Syracuse crying, “Eureka!” and almost nobody remembers why except that it involves a bathtub. Still, I had confidence that the name would ring a vague bell somewhere in the dim recesses of Silva’s head.
“What does the device do?” Silva asked?
Muller was silent for a second. “We do not even know what it looks like. Torrimpietra built the scepter around the device, and we only have vague, eh, description of device from a letter written by 16th century Venetian pirate who got description from other, illiterate pirate. I’m sure it does not work. But the device cannot be replaced, and therefore, neither can the scepter!”
Muller let Silva mull on that for a moment and then added, “Only four people in the world know of this secret. The Sultan, an antique dealer in Mexico, me, and now you. We wish for you to treat it like a replica, like the other replica, for nobody to know it is real until the Prince receives it.”
Silva replied, “Don’t worry, I will not tell anyone.”
Muller said, “Excellent. I have learned the Sultan is very generous man when he wants, eh, to reward a person. I think it will be good for you if you are to be discreet. Goodbye, Doktor. I will call you again on the day of opening to ensure everything is going smoothly.”
Having delivered his message, Muller hung up with German efficiency. A few minutes later, Francisco Fernandez, the Argentine businessmen, called the cabbie and asked to be picked up in front of the Hilton in half an hour. Once again, Fernandez was going to the Maksoud Plaza. Along the way, the two men joked about Fernandez’ new beard and discussed the upcoming friendly soccer game between Corinthians, based in São Paulo and River Plate from Buenos Aires.
Once at the Maksoud Plaza, Fernandez asked the cabbie to drop off a package one of the German doctors wanted mailed. Four hours later, the cabbie picked up Fernandez from the Maksoud Plaza and handed over a receipt for the mailed parcel. When he was dropped off at the Hilton again, Fernandez gave the cabbie a $100 tip. The cabbie would never see Fernandez again, but no doubt he would remember the Argentine fondly.
As for me, it was ten days until the Castle was re-opened and I had no particular reason to be in São Paulo now that most of my work was done. So the next morning, I checked out of the hotel and returned my little Fiat at the airport. I was going to miss the Fiat. I then caught a flight to Rio. I’d been to Rio three or four times and could safely say it was the easiest place to fall
“The scepter? It exists for real?” Silva was certainly surprised.
“Ja, it is real. And the Sultan wants to make a present of it for the Prince, who he considers a little cousin. I will send it to you today. It is to stay wrapped in the package until the morning of the inauguration. Will it fit in the safe?” Muller asked.
“If it is the same size as the replica, there is room,” said Silva.
“Gutt, gutt. I send it in such a way that it seems fake. Gold-plated, but fake. Regular delivery,” Muller noted.
“I understand,” da Silva replied.
“On the day of the inauguration, you are to open the package in early morning. The scepter must be placed on the right-hand arm of the throne so that it will be easy for the Prince to grip. You must do that yourself, and nobody must touch the scepter once you have put it on the throne,” Muller said.
“Is special instructions of the Sultan,” Muller continued, after a beat.
There was another pause, and then Muller went on, “You must understand, the scepter, it is priceless. It is hollow, and inside is mechanical device said to be built by Archimedes himself.”
Archimedes was a Syracusan genius who died around 210 B.C. at the hands of Roman invaders. He was a brilliant mathematician, scientist and builder. Sadly, today he is best remembered for running naked through the streets of Syracuse crying, “Eureka!” and almost nobody remembers why except that it involves a bathtub. Still, I had confidence that the name would ring a vague bell somewhere in the dim recesses of Silva’s head.
“What does the device do?” Silva asked?
Muller was silent for a second. “We do not even know what it looks like. Torrimpietra built the scepter around the device, and we only have vague, eh, description of device from a letter written by 16th century Venetian pirate who got description from other, illiterate pirate. I’m sure it does not work. But the device cannot be replaced, and therefore, neither can the scepter!”
Muller let Silva mull on that for a moment and then added, “Only four people in the world know of this secret. The Sultan, an antique dealer in Mexico, me, and now you. We wish for you to treat it like a replica, like the other replica, for nobody to know it is real until the Prince receives it.”
Silva replied, “Don’t worry, I will not tell anyone.”
Muller said, “Excellent. I have learned the Sultan is very generous man when he wants, eh, to reward a person. I think it will be good for you if you are to be discreet. Goodbye, Doktor. I will call you again on the day of opening to ensure everything is going smoothly.”
Having delivered his message, Muller hung up with German efficiency. A few minutes later, Francisco Fernandez, the Argentine businessmen, called the cabbie and asked to be picked up in front of the Hilton in half an hour. Once again, Fernandez was going to the Maksoud Plaza. Along the way, the two men joked about Fernandez’ new beard and discussed the upcoming friendly soccer game between Corinthians, based in São Paulo and River Plate from Buenos Aires.
Once at the Maksoud Plaza, Fernandez asked the cabbie to drop off a package one of the German doctors wanted mailed. Four hours later, the cabbie picked up Fernandez from the Maksoud Plaza and handed over a receipt for the mailed parcel. When he was dropped off at the Hilton again, Fernandez gave the cabbie a $100 tip. The cabbie would never see Fernandez again, but no doubt he would remember the Argentine fondly.
As for me, it was ten days until the Castle was re-opened and I had no particular reason to be in São Paulo now that most of my work was done. So the next morning, I checked out of the hotel and returned my little Fiat at the airport. I was going to miss the Fiat. I then caught a flight to Rio. I’d been to Rio three or four times and could safely say it was the easiest place to fall
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